


Seductions Of the Fade

by Vevici



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst and Smut, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 13:09:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6908473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vevici/pseuds/Vevici
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris revisits his last night with Hawke before the Champion left for Skyhold</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seductions Of the Fade

**Author's Note:**

> For the daficswap. A short story for tumblr user hirrient.

Hawke dipped his tongue into Fenris’ navel, and he shivered, pressed his abdomen harder into Hawke’s mouth despite the constant chant in his mind: it was merely a dream. Hawke was no longer with him. This was nothing more than the damned Fade giving him what he wanted.

                Still he buried his fingers into his love’s hair, dragged his heels farther apart on the sheets, pulled him closer to him as they had never been for months. What use was it to resist? It was torture to wake, drenched in sweat, shivering and alone. But to push away this mere figment of Hawke…he had tried it once, on the night that took him away, and Fenris choked on the terror of having his heart ripped from his chest. Better to cut himself little by little each night than to finish with a slice to the throat; at least with the former, there was time for Hawke to return.

                Fenris pulled at the sweat-slicked hair tangled between his fingers; with a groan, Hawke kissed and licked his way up Fenris’ branded body, biting into his neck once before finally granting the kiss Fenris demanded; Rough and unhurried, as Hawke had always been. Fenris tasted bitter farewell.

                Water pounded on the tiled roof, the scrape of the waves on the shore hardly crossed the opened shutters of the window in the downpour. Perhaps the bird would be lost in the storm tonight; perhaps Hawke would say a proper goodbye. Or none at all. But the fade had its limits in seducing its victims with sweet dreams.  Even as Fenris kneaded the knotted muscles on Hawke’s back, the call of the crow rattled in his mind; and he closed his eyes, tightened his grip on Hawke.

                The latter pushed himself higher on his elbows, a frown damping the bliss-glazed smile in his eyes. “You’re not really into this, are you?”

                “I am well into this. Just keep going.”

                Hawke nudged his knee between Fenris’ legs, eyebrow raised. “Really? Because the problem is certainly not my performance; I’m doing extra hard here.”

                Fenris chuckled. He ran his thumb under Hawke’s lips, and the latter’s eyes dimmed further.

                “What’s bothering you, Fenris?”

                Three clacks scratched on the wooden sill. Hawke turned to the sound, but Fenris pressed his palm to his cheek, pulled his face toward him.

                “Don’t mind it.”

                Hawke, of course, did mind. Shaking his head, he twined their fingers together as he drew Fenris’ hand away and turned to the window. He always did; would Hawke be Hawke if he did not? Despite the beard, Fenris already saw the grimace of his mouth.

                “Varric’s,” he said. He looked back once, scrambled out of the sheets, then plucked the message from the crow’s leg.

                Fenris watched his face crunch then slack. Growling, Fenris leapt off the bed, grabbed the hand that held the letter. He heard the protest in Hawke’s eyes, but before they were verbalized, Fenris cut them with a shove.

                “Leave it,” he said.  “Just this once, Hawke; let them take care of this.”

                “Corypheus. Shit.” More regretful than angry, Hawke scrubbed a hand down his face. “This started with me, Fenris. Bethany and I. And now the whole bloody Thedas is neck-deep with demons and the sky is about to fall.”

                They left the ancient magister in that blighted pit shrivelled and broken. They took turns examining the body, stabbing and kicking, making sure it would never rise again. Anders had declared it dead before burning it to greasy stains.  Hawke saw to it; and Fenris had reminded him on this exact moment two and a half months ago. It changed nothing.

                Fenris glared at the messenger crow, tempted to break its neck. He snapped his gaze to Hawke. “You do not listen to me even in my own dreams.”

                “They need my help, Fenris.”

                How many times had Hawke said that? Fifteen? Twenty? Just as many times Fenris had told him he would never leave his side no matter what comes for them. It changed nothing.

                Fenris circled Hawke, feet inched closer to his great-sword which leaned next to the bed. “Another lie you tell yourself, I presume.”

                Hawke kept pace, never allowing Fenris to move behind him. “You know why I left you.”

                To protect him, yes, Fenris understood. He felt just as feircely for Hawke. But the betrayal crept up his lungs, persistent as poisonous vines, when he had woken up to an apologetic letter three days before they decided to depart for Skyhold. Hawke had promised in the letter to return within a month and a half, and in turn had asked Fenris to wait at least that long before harassing the Inquisition.

                “You know why I wanted to come.” Fenris reached his hand back, gripped the hilt knuckle-white tight. Hawke stilled.

                “Which is why you had to stay,” Hawke said with a roll of his eyes.

                Fenris drew the weapon, stepped closer, and touched the blade to Hawke’s neck. “This charade ends now, spirit.”

                The imitation of Hawke cocked his head, lips puled on one side in a knowing smile. “ _Your_ charade.”

                Indeed. Fenris pulled back with a snarl and pushed all his weight in a double-handed swing. Just before the sword bit, he jerked his head away, eyes closed.

 

Fenris slammed into his bedroll. The crackling fire lifted the initial suffocation of the waking world, blessing Fenris with visuals to ground himself in. Then came the cold press of Hammer’s nose on his arm. Fenris curled his arm around the mabari’s neck, pressed his forehead on his.

                “I’m sorry,” he said, though he doubted the hound understood his sin. “We will find him. And we will get him back. I promise.”

                Hammer barked, tail a happy blur.

                Fenris freed himself from childbirth of slavery. Hawke survived the disaster that erupted in Kirkwall. They will manage to find each other again. And Fenris would fight all that the Fade would offer him until he could get his arms on Hawke again.


End file.
